in early March of that year, and that he applied for a German visa that

same month. According to British immigration records, a US citizen

called John Wilson left England by a boat sailing for Bremen,

Germany, on April 5, 1931. There's no other record of his movements.' 'You mean, you think he's still there, in Germany.'

'Yes.'

'Have you checked with the German authorities?'

'They deny all knowledge of him.'

'But you think they're lying.'

'Yes. I think he's still there and if he is, and if he's working on

rocket research, we should be concerned.'

Stopping by the edge of the river, they looked across to the far

bank. The fields that stretched out on all sides were flat, densely

forested, and sun-splattered. Birds flew overhead.

'You're my best man for intelligence gathering,' General Taylor

reminded him, 'so perhaps you can track him down.'

'I'm not so sure,' Bradley said, feeling the itch of frustration.

'We're talking about Hitler's Third Reich. One man on his own can't do much with this kind of problem. That's why we need a central intelligence-gathering organization,' he continued, warming to his favourite theme. 'The Brits have an intelligence system that puts us to shame. The last thing we had that remotely resembled an intelligence agency was Herbert Yardley's Black Chamber which was only a codebreaking unit and since that was closed down in 1929 we haven't had a d.a.m.ned thing to replace it. Which is doubtless why Yardley wrote his best-selling book exposing our so-called secrets and why New York federal marshals, the d.a.m.ned idiots, have just raided the offices of a perfectly respectable publisher to impound Yardley's second book.' The general laughed heartily at that one, then said, 'The way you p.r.o.nounce the word "idiots", Mike, reminds me

that you're an Irish-American.'

'Ha ha,' Bradley responded, but warmly, without malice. He was

proud of his background and not ashamed of what he'd become,

despite not being what he should have been. Although his uneducated

grandparents had emigrated from Ireland and he'd been raised as a

Roman Catholic, Bradley had gone against convention by becoming a

staunch member of the Republican party, instead of a Democrat, which

most of the Irish were. He had also, after winning numerous awards for

distinguished service in the battlefields of France in the Great War,

become a successful lawyer, with his own law firm on Wall Street. So,

yes, he was proud of his background and achievements and knew that

General Taylor, his close friend, truly respected him.

'Anyway,' the general said, wincing when the hammering on the

distant buildings started again, 'you were starting to talk a blue streak,

so don't let me stop you.'

'This guy, Wilson,' Bradley continued, 'who is possibly an